2013.09.02 - Morphogenetic Trends
Monet Yvette Clarisse Maria Therese St. Croix was one of the lucky ones. When her father confirmed to the media that she was a mutant all those years ago, she did not suffer. There were few willing to criticize her, at least in publications that had to worry about funding. The razor of prejudice that cut so many others was merely a mild edginess for St. Croix. It was daring but acceptable for her European contemporaries to support her. When the St. Croix family sent a polite but terse reply to the Xavier Institute, that was it. At least Monet--and later her younger sisters, also mutants--could undoubtedly survive without the patronage of Charles Xavier. The letter received last month suggests something to the contrary. It was sent, again, from the office of Cartier St. Croix, the Monégasque ambassador to France. It said, in subdued language, that Monet St. Croix would very much like to visit the Xavier Institute. It made no specific mention of her attending the school. The vehicle currently making its way up the driveway--a large, imposing black SUV--is undoubtedly on loan from some embassy or other. It is armored in the usual way that embassy vehicles are these days and the driver is carrying a pistol. He exits after parking in the small plaza near the front door, scanning the area with practiced eyes hidden behind dark glasses. He opens the passenger door. Monet St. Croix steps out, skipping the large car's door step and instead floating to the ground. She looks exactly like she does in the pictures. Dr. Jean Grey is probably one of the more diplomatic of the staff at the Institute, partly because she's used to dealing with politicians and funding boards. When the request for a tour came in, the Professor asked her if she'd handle it, as he had a pressing appointment he simply couldn't afford to break. Thus, as the limo passes through the gates to the Institute, a message is sent to her office to let her know their guest has arrived. She pauses only long enough to check herself in the mirror -- having chosen a slightly more business-like ensemble for the day -- before she heads down to the front drove to meet the car. The girl's resemblance to her photo is uncanny. Jean, however, isn't inclined to fits of inadequacy based on appearance. So, she is able to remain genuinely gracious in the face of such perfection. "Miss St. Croix," she says, descending the steps and crossing to the young woman. "Dr. Jean Grey. It's a pleasure to meet you." She extends her hand courteously. Monet does not seem to notice as Jean traverses the steps and the plaza to meet her. Instead, she admires the building and the grounds from where she stands. When Jean arrives and introduces herself, it's as if she had just entered the room. Monet smiles and briefly clasps the doctor's hand after removing one of her gloves. "Dr. Grey. I was recently given the opportunity to read your dissertation on mass spectrometric approaches to predicting morphogenetic trends. I am much more grateful for the chance to meet you." She raises her gloved hand so it is visible over her shoulder. The guard turns on his heel and returns to the driver's seat, though the car remains parked where it is. Monet proceeds to remove her second glove, tucking them into her purse. "Will you be showing me to the campus today?" Jean smiles, perhaps a trifle surprised, when Monet mentions her dissertation. "The pleasure's mine, I'm sure," the telepath says, shaking the young woman's hand. As the guard retreats, she gives a nod in answer to the question. "I shall be, yes," she concedes. "There's quite a bit to see. Perhaps we'll start with the mansion, first, and then move on to the grounds?" Monet glances down at their hands when Jean proceeds to shake. Other than that, her expression remains pleasant and she says nothing of it. "I'm in your care. Please, lead on." She is difficult to read. Not only is she physically composed, but her mind does not give off any thought. Either she is a very well crafted golem, or she knows a trick to stop this from happening. "What size is the Institute's population?" Jean's own mental shields, particularly lately, are tight enough that it's not like she's leaking anything, herself. Though the fact the girl is a mental void isn't lost on her. Even when their hands touch, there's nothing. And that's highly unusual. She's not prepared to call the girl a golem, but she is willing to suspect either strong telepathic shielding or a 'null field' of some sort that simply masks her. She makes a mental note to ask the Professor what he knows. He wouldn't have invited the girl, earlier, if he hadn't had some idea. "It varies," Jean replies, opening the front door and stepping through into the Atrium, allowing the girl to get her first glimpse of the mansion's interior. "Depends on the year, and, for that matter, the time of year, at that. Certainly, it being the beginning of term, there are greater numbers on campus now than there has been over the summer." Not a direct answer to the question, but she's not entirely inclined to lay accurate numbers on the table. A good sense of the population will doubtless become clear as the two continue their tour. "I see." Monet follows Jean into the atrium. She tilts her head to take in the entirely of the entryway, though it's with the same impact that she might study a road map. "Many students visit their homes for the summer, then, or do you mean that the Institute is admitting more candidates?" Any amount of study by Jean would have revealed at least some of the girl's powers: flight, obviously, but also physical excellence. There was some drama when she was disqualified from some competition or other. It was possibly fencing, but may have involved riding horses. Fencing seems more likely, to Jean's way of thinking, but she doesn't follow either sport closely enough to really know. And, Monet's hardly the first mutant to be disqualified on account of what they are. "Many students go home for summer," Jean clarifies, "yes. At least half of them, however, are inclined to stay for at least half the summer." Many, she knows, take abbreviated vacations, simply because they're more comfortable at the Institute than elsewhere. "This, of course, is the Atrium," she says, gesturing about the wide, airy foyer. "The stairs lead, of course, to the second floor, which includes the dormitories, living spaces, and faculty offices." They'll get to those. "Through here, however, is the first floor, where the classrooms and study halls may be found." She ushers the woman through to walk along the rich red carpet, amid the dark paneling. "Formal classes, of course, don't start until tomorrow. Most of our students are currently upstairs, or outside on the rear grounds." She glances at Monet, now. "I know your invitation to the school is fairly longstanding." That's a polite way of putting it. "May I ask what brings you here, now?" Monet dutifully looks to where Jean gestures and keeps an even pace. "Yes, it has been several years," the teen replies. She does not immediately answer the following question. Instead she turns her head to admire-or at least look at-a nearby painting. "I became involved in a situation that required me to reassess my commitments," Monet says, her speech slightly slowed, as if she was choosing her words with greater care. She looks away from the painting, making eye contact with Dr. Grey. There is still no emotion to hint at her meaning. "I realize I have moved past the age of 'gifted youngster.' However, our initial correspondence indicated that you were in the broader business of aiding mutants." "As you know, I am a mutant. I have decided to become more forward thinking on that subject." Jean nods to that, listening to the girl's careful intonation. She smiles again. Monet is the second person in one day to make such a suggestion to her -- though she's more favourably inclined toward the Frenchwoman than she was to the German. "I see. Well, we do try encourage forward thinking. And it is possible for us to make accommodation for older students." As they continue down the hallway, she cants her head again slightly. "Are there any questions you have about the school?" "Yes, I do," Monet says. She does not share Dr. Grey's smile. If anything, admitting to this nebulous 'situation' has thrown a delicate pall over the woman. "What are you doing about Genosha?" she asks. Her gaze is no harder than it was before, though the content of her question is decidedly more dire. "You will forgive me for assuming." Jean arches a brow, now. "Miss St. Croix," she says evenly, "while I concede we're certainly a haven for mutants, particularly young mutants still learning to control their abilities, and that we are engaged in lobbying for more equitable treatment of mutants in American society, I'm not sure I'm qualified to speak about the recent political unrest in Genosha. Surely your father would have better information on that than I would." No, she's not prepared to discuss the X-Men or any of their current operations with a stranger, particularly not one she's only just met and whose motivations are still a mystery. Especially since Jean has developed trust issues, of late. Monet candidly observes Jean's reaction, rather than merely matching her gaze. As the doctor finishes her answer, the younger woman responds with a reserved smile. "You would be surprised how provincial the views of some worldly men are, Dr. Grey." "I apologize for bringing the matter up." Monet briefly looks over Jean's shoulder, as if she expected the tour to continue at any moment. "Would you tell me more about the accommodations for older students? I understand the commute to Empire State University is tolerable." "Not as surprised as you might think," Jean replies, her expression softening, though maintaining that professional courtesy. Her smile offers a touch of good humour -- which means she's either politic enough to cover any concern the girl's question might have given or she's genuinely forgiven the gaffe. "I've dealt with senate committees too often to have any illusions." No sense alienating the girl, after all. "But, yes. The commute isn't too bad," she says, continuing toward the library, and opening its door. "We can provide single rooms, rather than shared accommodation, to make setting your schedule and study hours a little easier for you. There's full internet access available, of course, as well as an extensive library -- as you can see -- which we endeavour to keep up to date with the latest materials, in both hard copy and electronic format, in a wide variety of fields." They do value their information channels, around here, that's certain. Monet, for her part, maintains her admirable or perhaps frightening level of control over her expression. If she was embarrassed and if Jean put her at ease, there is no sign. Perhaps it is not control. It is said the wealthy and powerful lack a sense of boundaries. She walks with Jean through the library, pausing at the appropriate moments to observe the facilities. In a silent moment, she again interjects: "Do you work here in a purely administrative role, Dr. Grey, or do you teach? I am sure the Institute would be wasting you otherwise, political lobbying duties notwithstanding." "I am currently in charge of the science program here at the school," Jean admits, in answer to the question, "though I also maintain a laboratory facility in the city." Again, there's that soft chuckle. "Though there's no shortage of work for me, here -- administrative or otherwise. The school works hard to maintain high standards in all our programs, so we do keep busy." "Very high standards," the black haired woman agrees, looking elsewhere. She reaches out to touch the cover a book with her index finger, running it down the spine. "I have one more question to interrupt your tour with, Dr. Grey," Monet says. She continues to inspect the books, though she does not move to touch them as she did the first. "Do you have an opinion on the Academy of Tomorrow?" Jean shakes her head now. "To be honest, I haven't had much opportunity to get to know them at all. I've met some of their students, all of whom seem quite competent and well-adjusted. However, I'm otherwise unfamiliar with their institution." Truthfully, the only reason Jean hasn't looked closely at them is because she hasn't had time. She's heard all sorts of rumours, however. But, at the end of the day... when she's acting in a professional capacity, she's not about to share such things. Monet looks back toward Jean, smiling politely. With a final glance at the books, she abandons the erstwhile objects of her attention and turns to fully face the doctor. "I am glad to hear it. I plan on visiting their campus later this week. I have already received an offer from ESU, however. I would be pleased to speak with an admissions official here at the conclusion of your tour." "Absolutely," Jean says with a nod. "Ms. Munroe will be more than pleased to speak with you, I'm sure." Jean, Ororo, and Scott have often traded off on the job. It seems to be 'Ro's turn, currently. And Jean's okay with that. She guides the girl from the Library, now, takes her upstairs to view the accommodations, and then through the athletic facilities, and out to the rear grounds, where she shows off the lake and the rest of the amenities. It's everything a high-end school should be, of course. With any luck, the crazy game of 'mutant ball' they pass isn't off-putting at all. Ultimately, they end the tour where they started -- in the front Atrium. "And, that's about it," she says now. "Ms. Munroe will be along shortly. I do hope you enjoyed the tour. If there's anything further you need to know, please don't hesitate to ask either of us. We'd be more than happy to help in any way we can." Monet is the very model of politeness for the completion of Dr. Grey's tour. The only hiccup is, in fact, mutant ball. Monet pauses as they come into full view of the game in progress, watching in silence even as her guide moves on. She catches up moments later, hovering slightly above the ground with enough speed to make up the distance in no time. "It has been a great aid in my decision-making process. Thank you, Dr. Grey. Please do not let me keep you any longer." Unlike when they met, Monet keeps her eyes on Jean as she leaves. It would be really creepy if there were two of her. God forbid. Category:Log